God's Lie!

[Order is: what I decree, and what you must obey.] When those words echoed in his mind, Karen, seated on the steps, quietly closed his eyes. "Young Master Karen?" Madam Jenny looked at Karen in confusion. Just moments ago, he had been laughing and chatting with her. Instinctively, she leaned in for a closer look, but Eunice caught her arm. Alfred also noticed the change in his young master. Even though he stood behind him, he sensed an immediate shift in Karen's aura at that very instant—as if the young master were sitting inside a church, devoutly listening to the teachings of a priest. Alfred stepped down the stairs at once, positioning himself directly in front of Karen. Though Boge had no idea what was happening, the moment he saw Alfred move, he took up a position squarely behind Karen. One in front, one behind—the two shielded Karen between them. Seeing this, Eunice quickly drew her mother back. "What is..." "Shh," Eunice pressed a finger to her lips. Madam Jenny nodded immediately, signaling that she understood. In truth, having spent time with Karen in Rojia City and sharing the cruise ride back to Wien, Madam Jenny had long formed a fixed impression of him. Moreover, since this young man was her prospective son-in-law, she had looked upon him through the lens of a mother-in-law for quite a while. Consequently, after returning home, seeing her father-in-law treat Karen with boundless deference and watching Karen's status skyrocket within the Allen family left her feeling deeply disoriented. As a daughter-in-law hailing from an ordinary household, she knew the Allen family was extraordinary and was privy to many secrets of this circle, yet she had never had direct, profound exposure to it. She harbored no ill intentions; she simply liked to appear a bit closer to him when speaking of or interacting with Karen, seeking that petty vanity and satisfaction in front of her sisters-in-law. In the distance, because Old Anderson had stepped forward to drive away the royal protocol officers and their entourage, Mr. Bede found himself free and began walking back. He truly detested handling the family's mundane affairs. Yet his father was advanced in years, his eldest brother was absent, and his second brother was confined to a wheelchair. When grave and urgent matters arose, he had no choice but to step forward. However, when his gaze landed upon Karen sitting on the entrance steps, he froze mid-stride. "God's Revelation?" For a very long time—indeed, spanning several eras—church clerics serving true gods had looked down upon those who merely developed their bloodline potential within family faith systems. It was a deeply entrenched chain of contempt. Others might not have known, but Bede knew precisely what Karen was experiencing. How long had it been... since his purification? Each church might use different terms for the three stages—God's Servant, God's Revelation, and God's Shepherd—yet the essence was identical. A God's Servant corresponded to "adjusting" one's vessel; God's Revelation meant receiving "instructions from God"; and God's Shepherd meant receiving "validation from God." Each stage seemed straightforward, yet they were profoundly different. The most crucial link was, in fact, God's Revelation. Whatever instructions God imparted to you essentially determined your weight and position in God's eyes. Though it was said that all living beings were equal before the true god, that was often merely a slogan. Perhaps God genuinely thought so, viewing all mortals as mere ants—and His believers merely as differently colored ants He found pleasing. Therefore, whatever the ants did, whatever labor they divided—even a queen ant—could never change the fact that, in God's eyes, she was still an ant. Yet the ants did not think this way. It was like departmental divisions within an organization: those conducting scientific research and those doing janitorial work both served the system's operation, both contributing their light and heat—but were they truly the same? *So, Karen, what revelation has the God of Order bestowed upon you?* Seeing Karen close his eyes and radiate an aura of deep devotion, a smile crept onto the corner of Mr. Bede's lips. He, too, had experienced a similar moment. After receiving God's revelation, he had entered a state of visionary abstraction—a fleeting period he still reminisced about to this day. During that brief window, holding a paintbrush while seated on the manor's green lawn, in less than half a minute, he had borne witness to the changing of all four seasons across the estate. When God speaks to you, your perspective, your emotions, and your heart achieve a profound resonance with the divine. Though ephemeral, it was enough to savor for a lifetime. For that was the truest, purest communion between your primordial self and God. Unfortunately, it was far too brief. Truly far too brief. Bede had deliberately inquired about God's Revelation and learned that his half-minute had already been extraordinarily long; the vast majority of revelations lasted no more than three seconds. Yet those three seconds alone were enough to etch themselves into a cleric's memory for life. Moreover, the insights and gains gathered during that time would steer the course of your future. Exactly how much elevation in spiritual realm one attained depended entirely on the individual. *Five seconds have passed already,* Bede noted in his mind. *Ten seconds have passed.* Remarkable. *Half a minute has passed.* He's surpassed me. *A whole minute now.* Tsk, Diss's grandson. ... Karen actually knew what a state of divine revelation was like, for Purr's original plan had been to push him to the rank of God's Shepherd as quickly and soundly as possible, before making a push for the rank of Inquisitor. Yet even Purr had not anticipated it would come this swiftly. Karen himself had not anticipated it either. At this moment, completely free of extraneous thoughts, he was purely immersed in this perception. His eyes were closed, yet his "vision" remained wide open. Beside his ears, he faintly heard the sound of water flowing rapidly. Was his pool draining outward? Having practiced the Spear of Punishment for over a week straight, Karen was no stranger to this sensation of flowing water. In fact, sensing the absence of that tearing agony—the feeling of an iron blow to the forehead and a bleeding nose—his heart grew calm instead. He knew his reservoir was vast and deep. If the water drained at a normal rate, it could flow for an exceptionally long time. Right now, the world before Karen's eyes was rendered strictly in grey and white. First, he saw himself, sitting on the steps. From his body, a single thread was extending outward. The first to spread was a grey thread. It stretched far into the distance, reaching the workers busy inside the performance hall. "This work isn't so tough." "Yeah, without those fellows in powdered wigs hovering around, it's definitely easier." "I heard the old master of the Allen family stepped in personally and kicked them out." "Hahaha, good riddance! We can wrap this up before sunset today. That way we won't have to get up before dawn tomorrow to rush out to Allen Manor; we can enjoy a good night's sleep." "Exactly. Once we finish today, we should get paid. The Allen family's payroll settles fast, never dragging its feet." "Work faster, then! Would the Allen Financial Group bother withholding our meager wages? Ridiculous." A group of workers labored inside the performance hall while the grey thread extending from Karen wound around each of them, one by one, without their slightest awareness. After coiling around every worker, the thread continued onward. Outside the performance hall, a group of footmen were rearranging potted plants. "Transplanting flowers from the estate grounds is much more convenient. No need to haul them in from outside." "Right? The ones brought from outside never meet the standards anyway, back and forth, such a headache." "Those royals even insisted on specific blooms. Hah! Why didn't they just take His Royal Highness back to the palace for the funeral?" "Hosting a royal funeral is said to be an aristocratic honor." "I'm no aristocrat; I can't enjoy that kind of honor." "True enough. But after transplanting these flowers here, will we have to move them back once the funeral ends?" "Probably not, but we'll certainly have to restore the turf in those patches." "*Sigh*, that's another massive chore." "How much longer do you plan to complain? As footmen of the Allen family, preserving the beauty of Allen Manor is our sacred duty!" "Yes, Butler!" "Yes, Butler!" The grey thread coiled around these footmen, circled in a wide arc, and entered the castle. "Polish this silverware thoroughly; it will be used during the funeral." "Wipe the serving plates clean as well; they will be needed for the funeral." "Also, leave no blind spot unattended throughout the castle! Her Majesty the Queen may very well lodge at the estate on the day of the funeral. We must not breach etiquette and bring shame upon the master or the Allen family!" Inside the ancient castle, all the maids worked diligently, and the grey thread threaded through every single one of their bodies. Finally, the thread returned, reached the entrance, and sank back into Karen's form. *All of them, every single person, are acting according to my instructions, preparing for the funeral, preparing to host Her Majesty the Queen.* *It was I who gave them the requirements; it was I who set their rules. What they are following is the Order I established.* Karen frowned. Subconsciously, he was inclined to believe this was correct, for the circuit traveled by the grey thread fully corroborated those words: [Order is: what I decree, and what you must obey.] Yet Karen instinctively sensed that something was amiss. Perhaps this was an answer that could satisfy God, but it failed to convince his own heart. They were acting according to his requirements, but the workers labored for wages, and the servants toiled for the honor of belonging to Allen Manor. Even without him, they would still have been walking their paths. His appearance had merely altered their immediate direction, yet his appearance was perhaps simply one of the routine encounters in their daily walk. Everything of God was supreme; the words spoken by God were absolute truths on par with the cycle of the sun and moon. Yet for certain people, dialectics was an imprint almost indelibly carved into the conscious mind. Even when he was standing before God! Just then, Karen noticed another thread extending from within himself. It first coiled around Alfred standing before him, turned to wrap around Boge, then wound around Madam Jenny and Eunice, encircled Old Anderson in the distance, and... wrapped around Mr. Bede. Immediately after, the thread sank into the ancient castle once more, as if searching, or perhaps heading toward predetermined destinations. It wrapped around Purr, around the golden retriever, and around every single person inside the castle. In the next instant, the threads coiled around each person began to shift in color. Each distinct hue seemed to represent a different attribute of Order radiating outward, with himself at the center. In a flash, Karen's mind was inundated with threads of every imaginable color. The intricate hues and profound significance struck his consciousness like a massive spiritual shockwave. *Boom!* Karen felt as though a severely rusted iron rod had driven straight through his skull. *Ah! Ah! Ah!* After that ferocious crescendo, total silence abruptly returned to his surroundings, yet the expected conclusion did not arrive. Before his eyes lay endless pitch black. Looking up, he saw neither stars nor moon. He suddenly felt freezing cold. Though there was no wind, waves of bone-chilling frost assaulted him relentlessly. Instinctively, Karen tried to wrap his arms around himself for warmth, only to discover in horror that he had no arms! He looked down and realized he had completely melted into this darkness—truly dissolved, for nothing of his physical form remained. He was like a soul, an utterly solitary soul. Realizing this truth, Karen felt even colder. Deprived of every shred of security, he was seized by bewilderment, helplessness, and the despair of being abandoned by the world. Karen began to "walk" forward. He did not know if he was truly walking, for he had no feet, and the flanking darkness provided no reference points to tell if he was moving. Yet to escape this place, he had to push forward on instinct. He could not simply sit here and weep. Perhaps this was the conviction rooted in the depths of Karen's bones. It was not grand or lofty; it feared death, feared setbacks, and dreaded pressure. When confronted with all manner of negative trials, it would be battered and pulled out of shape; it would weep, yet even while weeping, it would stubbornly press forward. This had nothing to do with high-minded beliefs or lofty ideals, nor was it meant to prove anything to anyone. The world might abandon you, but you had to remain accountable to yourself. Perhaps "accountable" was too grand a word. In short, he simply needed to be at peace with his own conscience. Gradually, Karen perceived a new point of reference: he was growing colder and colder. This incremental sensation was like drawing closer to a campfire to feel its warmth—it proved that, in one way or another, he was truly moving forward. ... "It still hasn't ended?" Mr. Bede had completely lost control of his expression, an undisguised look of shock plain upon his face. Because the others in the family were either ordinary folk or followers of the family faith system, they possessed no clear understanding of this situation. Yet he knew. He had lived through it, and precisely because he had experienced it, he understood just how precious this process truly was. At this moment, a memory surfaced in Bede's mind. In it, an elderly man sat before him, while Bede stood respectfully in his presence. *"I dislike the Church of the Mural God, not because of the God of Order, nor because of its doctrines.* *"Rather, it is because I believe you followers of the Mural God have long misunderstood your own teachings. You pursue renunciation with near-madness, hoping to extract from abandonment the tragic beauty of sacrificing yourselves for art."* *"Can divine doctrine be wrong?" Bede had asked respectfully.* *"Can divine doctrine not be wrong?"* *"Doctrine is the decree of God."* *"Can God not be wrong?"* *"Forgive me, sir, but I cannot understand you."* *"I would like to know whether you will suffer."* *"Suffer..."* *"The things you wish to renounce the most are often what you truly care about. Certain bonds are not confined solely to a surname or the awakening of bloodline."* *"I... I do not know."* *"I permit your daughter to become my grandson's wife."* *"Thank you for your mercy and favor."* *"I am rather proud of myself."* *"If you are willing to speak, I would gladly listen."* *"What an elder dreads most is watching the younger generation walk the very wrong path he once trod."* *"Does that mean your current self has walked the wrong path as well?"* *"What if the path was wrong from the very beginning?"* *"This..."* *"Then the further you walk, the more wrong you become."* *"I am dull-witted, for I still do not understand."* *"Perhaps you will understand in the future."* *"Understand... what?"* *"You will understand that* *God,* *can also lie to you."* ... Carrying Purr on its back, the golden retriever descended the stairs and came to the doorway. Alfred and Boge remained standing, one in front and one behind, guarding Karen. "*Woof~*" the golden retriever whimpered softly. "So soon... God's Revelation already?" Purr's feline eyes widened. "He really is identical to Diss back then." In Purr's established perception, Diss was a singular anomaly. Geniuses might later be compared to him, but none could ever truly be like Diss. For Diss was unique. Yet the scene before Purr compelled the realization that Karen, Diss's grandson, was retracing Diss's exact footsteps. "His foundation is so profound—profound enough to drive the vast majority of God's Servants in this world to utter despair. Therefore, when he receives God's Revelation, he will attain an even greater awakening. "I can hardly wait, truly. What kind of revelation will the God of Order bestow upon Karen?" "*Woof~*" the golden retriever barked softly once more. "Hmm?" Purr leaped down from the dog's back and crept slowly toward Karen's side. As she moved, she caught sight of the unmistakable look of shock on Mr. Bede's face. Yes, utter shock. And when Purr caught sight of Karen's expression, she froze in her tracks. For on Karen's face, there was none of the devout bliss that came with receiving divine instruction. Instead, his brow was tightly furrowed and his teeth bit into his lip, as though he were enduring agonizing torment—or trapped in a terrible nightmare. *Is this... truly receiving God's Revelation?* ... Cold. So cold. Though Karen had no physical limbs in this pitch darkness, long-held habit retained that phantom sensation. His legs felt frozen stiff, completely unable to bend. His arms could no longer swing, locked firmly at his sides. His skin began to fissure, and the blood beneath seemed to freeze into solid ice. His mind sank into a stupor; even his brain felt frozen solid. Even his soul seemed to have hardened into an ice sculpture, too fragile to touch, threatening to shatter into dust at the slightest brush. At a moment like this, any warmth— even a single match—would be enough to drive a person mad, pushing them to grasp it at any cost, even to swallow the flame whole. In his hazy daze, Karen felt a single sentence surfacing incessantly in his mind: [Order is: what I decree, and what you must obey.] [Order is: what I decree, and what you must obey.] [Order is: what I decree, and what you must obey.] As long as he chanted it silently, as long as he followed it, as long as he believed in it, all his suffering would end, and he would return to warmth. Beneath his feet lay a frozen realm; ahead lay the depths of hell. Only by chanting His name, only by praising His greatness, could true salvation be attained. Yet Karen did not do so. He stubbornly pressed forward regardless. He craved warmth; he craved fire. Yet the more those words churned in his mind, the more indifferent his heart became. It was a bizarre sensation. You were drowning, and someone on the bank reached out a bamboo pole to save you, yet rather than feeling grateful, you felt an overwhelming revulsion toward them! It defied logic, yet it was unfolding in absolute reality. Just then, Karen heard the sound of flowing water growing faint. This state was drawing to a close. Once the water ran dry, he would slip into unconsciousness once more, escaping this grueling torment. It would be a release—a self-forgiveness free of any psychological burden. It was not that he lacked perseverance, even if he did not know what he was persevering for; nor was it that he lacked effort, even if he did not know whether his efforts were aimed in the right direction. At last, he could lie down, and it would all be over. Yet a surge of fury erupted in Karen's heart. Why should it end like this? Why must it end like this? Karen resumed his march forward. He did not know what lay ahead; perhaps there was no "ahead" at all. Yet he still had to walk. While his water had not completely run dry, he would take as many steps as he could manage! At that moment, his grandfather's voice resonated from the depths of Karen's heart: *"Because you, Karen, do not believe in God."* Karen smiled. He finally understood why. Because he did not believe in God. He could accept purification from God, and he could study His spells; but when made to sit and listen to God's teachings, his lack of faith naturally caused him to doubt the words spoken. *If God's decree is the alternation of day and night, then I shall... walk from the dark into the light to verify it myself!* *Because I fear you might lie to me!* At last, the water ran dry. Karen sensed that he truly could "walk" no further. Yet he forcibly hurled himself forward one more stride—throwing his body outward, resolved to advance even half a meter, half a decimeter, or half a centimeter! *Thud!* Karen fell to the ground. The biting chill vanished in an instant, and the surrounding pitch black gave way to a visible grey-white haze. Immediately after, Karen looked down in astonishment to see his hands, and found he could move his limbs. They had been there all along. Truly, they had never left. Karen turned his head to look behind him. He discovered that the path he had traveled was a grey-white canyon flanked by high cliffs; all along, he had simply been advancing through the groove of this canyon floor. *I have hands and I have feet. I can walk on my own. I feel no confusion, nor do I require despair.* *The endless darkness merely obscured the path that had always existed here; I need no guidance.* *So, was I drowning?* *No, I was not.* *Rather, it was the person holding the bamboo pole who was struggling in the water;* *The pole he extended was not meant to save you,* *but to drag you down into the depths alongside him.* [Order is: what I decree, and what you must obey.] That voice resounded once more within his mind. Karen smiled, smiling with radiant joy. As the surrounding vision rapidly collapsed and his consciousness began to return, he roared at the top of his lungs: "Long before you decreed it, Order already existed!"